


Cold Whispers

by samarianuel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And he talks to Tom a lot, Crazy Harry, Gen, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Harry hears voices, In an Orphange, Mental Health Issues, Psycho Harry, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2019-10-17 10:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17559038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samarianuel/pseuds/samarianuel
Summary: There wasn’t a single member of faculty at the orphanage that didn’t worry about Harry. He had an air about him. He just felt so... disturbing.Well Harry doesn't feel disturbed. He feels great. In fact, he feels powerful. Ever since his imaginary friend taught him how to control his magic, everything started going really well for him.And he's very excited for Hogwarts.





	1. A Cold Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, just fancied giving this a go. I know it's a bit edgy, but ehhh i felt like writing vaguely unhinged and powerful Harry. So here you go.

There wasn’t a single member of faculty at the orphanage that didn’t worry about Harry. Whether they were concerned about his solitude, or wary of the reasons that caused it, there wasn’t a monthly meeting that didn’t include an incident.

There were only five of them, in such a large establishment, with just over a hundred children, and yet Harry Potter managed to be at the forefront of several minds. Ever since the day he’d arrived, a shifty-looking 6 year old on the stone porch, Madam Nelson had disliked the boy. He had air about him. Oh, and that hair! No matter how many times she had told him to comb it, it had never improved. Honestly, that sort of hair was not the way to get adopted! They’d never see the tail end of him, the way things were going.

Yes, he was a trouble maker that one. Jane couldn’t see it though, the poor dear, she was very new, fresh out of school, and clearly had no experience of dealing with bad kids.  
She was always defending the boy, going far too easy on him. Bless her. She’d have to learn eventually. Mr Knights, the groundskeeper, also seemed to like the boy, though she couldn’t fathom why. Well, perhaps he couldn’t be blamed either, he was rather a halfwit.

Luckily, they were the only ones to fall for the boy’s antics, and she could be rest assured he’d be punished if she was away while he was misbehaving. Just this year caning had been made illegal in schools, a mistake if you asked her, but luckily for them the orphanage was not a school, and as legal guardians, they still maintained the right to punish children as they saw fit. And so they did.

Harry Potter had received the cane many times, getting into so much trouble. He started fights, often disobeyed curfew, and downright hated the other children. He could often be found alone in the garden, mumbling to himself. She had tried her hardest to stamp out that habit, but as long as it kept him out of trouble, she wouldn’t push the matter.

He seemed to really not get on with Nathan Hansen and Peter Connolly. Those boys were lovely really, charming, active, friendly. The only reason they hadn’t gone yet was their age. People tended not to want anyone over the age of nine, and both boys had just surpassed that sad limit. A true shame, but she always put in a good word for them, and often offered their files up first to prospective parents.

Ever since the boy had arrived, he had started all sorts of nonsense with them, fighting, stealing food, messing up rooms, you name it.

Whenever she questioned him, he had nothing to say. Well, at least he didn’t bother lying to her. He might have at first, but he clearly realised it wasn’t going to work with her, no sir.

His troublesome behaviour certainly earned him no friends, which was probably for the best, there was no reason for his mischief to be rewarded.

She really should be stricter with him, this behaviour had apparently been going on for years, according to the lovely people that dropped him off. They explained so politely how badly he acted, how they just couldn’t afford to support two children anymore, poor dears, she could completely understand, and it was much more reasonable than the young whores that dropped their spawn off in the night to be cared for.

And how bad could a child be that their loving family had to abandon them? Harry certainly fulfilled the criteria. That boy. There was just something so… _disturbing_ about him.  
With a shudder, she walked outside to see what the commotion was about.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry Potter did not like the orphanage. He liked it more than the Dursleys of course, but that wasn’t a very high standard to keep. He’d been there for two years, and he had long ago given up on adoption.

Not that he wanted to be adopted. That could be very inconvenient for him. Especially now.

He knew exactly why he was here, and he knew why his relatives hated him. He had magic.

He’d known since the incident with his teacher, Mrs Ambling, where her wig turned blue. He’d only known because he’d heard the argument between his aunt and uncle that followed the beating he’d received. He’d had no idea why he was being hurt, or why he was being called a freak, but he crawled behind the sofa to hide away from them, out of his cupboard, at least until they found him.

He’d heard Petunia lament that he was like her sister, that she had found out why all the students had been sent home through gossip, that he was the one that caused it. Then the argument changed into a discussion of what they were going to do with him. He listened, with baited breath. And he remembered exactly what Petunia said.

“If we send him away, he’ll come, _Dumbledore_ ,” She hissed the name like it was a curse word, “And he’ll be angry, he told us to look after him!”

After that Harry had blanked out for a moment. Dumbledore. He had no idea who that was, but he knew he was the reason Harry was stuck there. The reason Harry was holding a fist to his bruised shoulder, lying on the dusty floor, hiding. He knew with a passion that a six year old should not possess that he _hated_ this man.

“I have had it Petunia, I’m taking him tomorrow afternoon, and that’s final!” Uncle Vernon stormed off, leaving a rather shocked looking Petunia standing alone in the living room, before she followed him upstairs, seemingly to continue the argument more quietly.

He had lied there for hours after the revelation, in the dark, waiting for everyone to go to sleep, before creeping to his cupboard, hunching over in the dark.

So they were getting rid of him?

No, he was getting rid of them. He didn’t need them. If he could turn wigs blue, what else could he do?

He grabbed one of the broken toys he’d stolen from Dudley off the small shelf above him, focusing on the leg that was twisted the wrong way on the action-man; he thought it back to normal. Nothing happened. He imagined it looked the way it should. Nothing happened. He sort of contracted the muscles in different parts of his body, focusing and squeezing. Nothing happened.

Feeling rather hopeless, he threw the toy to the other end of the cupboard and lay down petulantly, sulking.

Ok, so it wasn’t that easy.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been the next day he was told to pack his few possessions and get in the car.

It was an old looking building, with classic faded red bricks slowly crumbling. The tall, slanted roof gave the building a nightmarish element, making it look like an old abandoned house. It might have been a Victorian manor at some point. The inside wasn’t much better, splintering pale floorboards creaked underfoot, small damp spots and stains marking the walls, the only sign of individuality the beige paint could muster.

The worst part was the cold. There was heating, but it was expensive to heat the entire building, so they usually just kept the warmth within the canteen and common areas. Plenty of tatty jumpers and blankets were provided to keep them warm though.

The moment he’d arrived here there’d been trouble. It was a large establishment, but there were about a hundred kids, ranging from the ages of 4 to 14, and that was always going to be a mess. Most people had to share a room, usually in pairs, but there were a couple of trios, so some people had to sleep alone. Usually the younger ones were grouped up, since they were the ones that got anxious in the night.

Harry had been thrilled to enter his small, cold bedroom. He could sleep on a real bed, rather than the fold up one that he had slept on all his life. It was a fairly small room, at the very end of the corridor, behind a green door identical to every other along the hall. Inside the room, there were two beds facing the door on either wall, with maybe a meter and a half between them. Over each bed was a large shelf running along the long side of the bed. Each bed was leaning against the back wall, which curved in to create a rectangular space at the end of the room, the perfect size for a desk, which sat precisely there. Above the desk hung a large window looking out into the garden, surrounded by faded blue curtains.

At a second glance, the room looked much worse. The pale olive wallpaper was peeling in several places, and there were multiple wet spots soaking through. The curtains had torn edges, and the window pane had a long crack running from the bottom almost all the way up the top of the window. Looking down, the floor was the same horrid floorboard that Harry wouldn’t touch without shoes. The desk was probably the nicest thing in the room, a dark brown wood with a small shelf running along the back, housing several books.  
He was left by the disapproving woman that had introduced herself as Madam Nelson to his new room. With a sigh, he walked over to the bed on the right, under the shelf that was empty, and unpacked his few belongings. He discovered a small bedside table at the end of each bed, jammed between the wall and the bed that would serve as a dresser and he shoved the few hand-me-downs he had brought into it.

Just as he shoved his old leather briefcase under his bed, a boy walked in.

“Hey, you must be new; I’m your roommate, my name’s Scott, what’s yours?” The boy asked rather quickly.

“I’m Harry.” He responded, slightly disappointed he would have to share his room, as he suspected.

“Cool, I’m nearly seven, how old are you?” He seemed like a fairly pleasant boy, floppy blonde hair falling over his forehead, nearly poking his large brown eyes.

“I’m six. I was six in July.” He responded politely. Who knows, maybe this kids could be his best friend someday.

“Well I’m older than you; I’ll be seven next month, the 18th of December.” He boy seemed to care a lot about age, that’s pretty weird. But then again, Harry didn’t know much about other kids his age.

“Cool.” Harry answered, not really knowing what the boy wanted him to say.

“That’s my bed ok, so don’t touch any of my stuff.” Scott warned Harry, before jumping on the aforementioned bed, as if to prove his point.

“That’s ok, I already like that one better.” Harry reassured him.

And with the smile Scott gave him, Harry felt slightly better about the terrible accommodations, and thought maybe things could turn out fine.

Until dinner of course.

The boy on his right kept giving him dirty looks, even though Harry kept trying to ignore him, used to the attention from Dudley. It was when the boy started taking the food off his plate he got irritated. He’d just gotten away from this. He’d left this behind, hadn’t he? Apparently not. He didn’t want to start a fight, not on the first day, so he did what he used to do with Dudley. He ate all of his food as quickly as possible. He managed to eat a whole sausage in one bite, before scarfing down the other one. He shoveled the mash and gravy into his mouth in less than thirty seconds. He looked in triumph at the boy.

He was met with a scowl. The boy also finished quickly and left. Harry stayed while Scott finished his dinner, making small talk, being introduced to Scott’s friends, who all found Harry’s display very entertaining to say the least.

When Harry returned to his room, he saw his belongings on the floor. He picked up his action-man, the one with the broken leg. It was missing a head. Frantically, he looked through all of his things, and each one was damaged even further than when they arrived with him.

Pure anger filled him. He knew who it was. It was that boy. That one at dinner that had been trying to eat Harry’s food.

“Scott. Who was that boy at dinner, the one that was sitting next to me?” Harry interrupted Scott’s inane rambling about football.

“Oh, that was Peter. He’s not really very nice, but he’s best friends with Nathan, who’s even worse.” Scott said flippantly, walking past the broken toys to his bed.  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“How do you mean?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that boy was not to be messed with?”

“Dunno.”

Maybe it was the flippancy of Scott’s tone, but the answer infuriated Harry more than he could describe. How could he do this? He let Harry trick himself into being the butt of the jokes again. The runt. The hunted. No. That wasn’t going to happen.

Harry finally sat down on his bed, feeling the threadbare blanket underneath him. It felt rougher than a potato sack. He sat there for a few minutes, anger building up inside him. 

He finally looked at Scott, who was reaching up for a toy from his shelf. A perfect, brand new toy. The anger finally reached a crescendo, as the large shelf collapsed on top of Scott!

Scott let out a scream of agony, as it hit his pelvis with a sickening crunch, all his possessions falling off, scattering over the floor.

Harry sat there for a moment, not knowing what to do. He felt the anger leave him, but a very small part of him was suddenly euphoric. Like all his problems had been solved. He had liked it when Scott was hit by the shelf. He deserved it. He had caused Harry to undoubtedly be the weak kid, the one everyone picks on. He hadn’t even cared. Why should Harry care about this?

Finally he got up, and walked calmly to the door to fetch Madam Nelson from her office.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scott had a broken pelvis. He had needed to go to the hospital, and since he was in the middle of the process of being adopted, he never bothered coming back. Harry never saw him again.

Good.

Harry had been right. Peter and Nathan had turned out to hate him. They were crafty of course, and they always managed to get away with things, since Madam Nelson seemed to like them so much. Everything they did to him they would re-enact and blame on him. They would come and start fights with him, leaving him bruised and bloody. He was no match for two boys two years older than him.

On Christmas every child received a donated toy. Harry got a box of little green army men, which he was delighted with. He made sure to keep them in his leather bag, locked in, and stuffed right under his bed. He didn’t have to share a room anymore though, which was marvellous. The wall on Scott’s side was too damp to install a new shelf, and they decided it would just be easier to leave the room alone. And thus, Harry alone.

Since the little fights had started, Harry had been basically blacklisted as a friend to every child in the orphanage. Each one knew that associating with him would mean facing Nathan and Peter alongside him, which was something no one was willing to do.

Harry had started getting his own back. If the bullies were going to stage Harry’s acts of aggression, he might as well get to do them. Soon enough he figured out which room was theirs, and that was when he started messing up their room, tipping things about and breaking toys. He knew they both sneaked out of bed to go watch TV in the common area, but no one ever caught them, since the door to the common area was locked at night, and no one knew how they got in. Well. Harry knew. He followed them one night, and saw them remove the panel on the door. All it took was a screwdriver on two corners and it could easily be taken out.

He made use of this information regularly, to go through their room when he knew they weren’t there, or even to sneak into the common room himself occasionally. Of course he got caught a few times, the floorboards were creaky and old! They made a racket every time he moved! But he’d been getting better. He’d memorized the ones that were louder than others, and the ones that were safe.

He was getting fairly sneaky if he said so himself!

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

He almost screamed the first time he heard it. The whisper in his head. It was a smooth male voice, saying something incomprehensible. Harry was on edge all day the first time he heard it. The teachers asked if he was ok, or if he wanted to go home. Eventually he went back to the orphanage, collapsing on his bed. The whispers were getting more coherent all day.

“ _Hello Harry_.” The whisper greeted him, finally. Harry jumped up in bed, nearly shrieking with terror. Not that it would have done much good, the walls were surprisingly sound proof, as he found out when Scot had screamed bloody murder and no one had realised.

“ _There’s no need to be alarmed. I’m your friend Harry._ ” The voice soothed.

“I don’t need friends.” Harry thought instinctively.

“ _No Harry, you don’t need them... I can be your friend. I’ll never leave you... I’ll help you; I can see you’re on the path to greatness Harry... I can help you harness your gifts... I can offer you so much power. Just say yes_.”

Harry found himself pausing. What if this voice was connected to his gifts? What if he could finally get control? He couldn’t afford to pass that up. The voice seemed to hear his thoughts, so maybe he could think his answer?

“Yes. I’ll be your friend.” Harry could somehow feel the voice smiling at his answer.

“ _Hello Harry, my name’s Tom_.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry discovers some things, and teaches some lessons.

Harry walked through the garden, clutching a small bundle of sticks. No one spared a glance his way, they didn't dare. He had made it very clear that he was not an easy target. After two years in this nightmarish hellhole, there were only a few children that remained at the orphanage from when he had first arrived, but despite this, the new children knew to leave him alone.

He had made his position in the hierarchy very obvious about six months into his stay here.

He had been laying in his room speaking with the voice he had just learned was named Tom.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

"What exactly are my 'gifts'? I don't really know much about it. You said I can control it?" Harry questioned, suspiciously.

_"Yes, I know all about it, Harry, I've been here all this time… watching you grow. I can see your greatness… I would like to help you achieve it."_

"You've been inside my head all this time? What are you? Why haven't you said something sooner?" Harry only felt more confused with every answer.

_"I am a part of you, I have been since you were a baby. I am… Stronger now, you have been…feeding me. I'm sorry… It is hard, I am not…Whole, but I can offer you power beyond your wildest dreams, Harry."_ The voice whispered, seeming to consider everything carefully, or maybe it was more like catching its breath.

"You keep saying that. Can you explain what you actually mean?" He was getting fed up with 'Tom' and his cryptic answers. Just like all adults, the voice wasn't telling Harry everything, and he hated it.

_"I apologise, Harry, of course I will explain… you have magic. This, you already know… But there is a whole community of wizards, Harry, people like you and your parents."_ At this, Harry gasped.

"My parents? You know about my parents?" Desperate for any knowledge the voice might have to offer.

_"I'm sorry… I don't know much, as I said… many things are lost to me… I know their names were Lily and James… You look like them… Just like your father, but you have your mother's eyes… they both had magic."_ The voice seemed truly apologetic, but it didn't quell the disappointment Harry felt.

"James and Lily… I didn't even know their names. Aunt Petunia would never tell me." He shook off the feelings of disappointment to continue the interrogation, when the voice spoke up.

_"If you want to know about your gifts, go to the garden… look for sticks…I'll tell you which on is best for you."_ For a second, Harry considered going to sleep early, skipping dinner, and pretending this never happened. He was six, he knew you shouldn't hear voices in your head, uncle Vernon always raved about 'Nutjobs hearing voices' on the news. But, the voice knew things, things he didn't know. Things he desperately wanted to know. He wanted to use his power. He wants to feel the same ingle he did when he turned Mrs. Ambling's wig blue, like when ugly jumpers shrunk in front of him.

 

Like when that shelf fell on Scott.

 

And Tom was his friend, he said so. His only friend. The only friend he'd ever need. Supposedly. Besides, he had agreed. So with this thought in mind, he pulled on the least damaged jumper he owned over his school uniform, and left the room for the garden.

Only he was interrupted. He was walking down the hall, when Elliana Danvers and her small group of sidekicks stopped him.

"Nice jumper! How about you give it to me, since it's pink and all. You wouldn't want people to think you're _gay_ , would you?" She was trying her best to be intimidating, using her slight height and age difference to tower over Harry.

He looked down at the offending garment. It was pink, a pale salmon sort of colour, like the curtains at Privet Drive. It had a violet trim, and very clearly was meant for a girl, but it had been donated to the orphanage, and at that point, it was just a case of who got to the box the quickest. Harry liked this jumper, even though it was pink; it was incredibly warm and definitely made up for not owning a coat.

"No, it's mine." Harry defended, not at all daunted by her.

"Well, it isn't really, is it? It belongs to the orphanage. Like you, because your parents didn't want you." She seemed to think she had delivered the biggest insult in the history of rudeness. Harry didn't agree.

"But that's why you're here too, isn't it?" Harry asked innocently. She spluttered slightly.

"MY parents are coming back for me! They said so. Yours aren't though, because they hate you." She was clearly losing some of her confidence, her facial expression stuttering briefly.

"My parents are dead." He said blankly. She looked quite shocked for a second, clearly not expecting that. Most of the kids were at the orphanage for social welfare reasons, or having been seized by the government. There were, as far as Harry could tell, only several kids that had come after their parents had died. Most kids go to relatives when their parents die, just like Harry.

"Just give it to me!" She had clearly tired of talking to him, and made to snatch the jumper of his frame, but too slow, as he was already running in the other direction.

They chased after him immediately, not sparing a second, children in the corridors were shoved aside carelessly as they ran through the halls. Harry flung open the door to the garden, running right over the field, towards the wall, maybe he could jump it? No! It was far too high!

_"You have to want it, Harry, you have to **need **it."****_ ****Tom chimed in at last.** **

********

********

And Harry did, he really, really did, desperately, because he was going so fast he didn't think he could stop now. He was getting closer, and closer, and he did, he needed to make the jump!

He jumped.

His hands crashed onto the brick wall, and he scrambled up quickly, sitting down, looking at the girls that had just reached the back door. They hadn't seen him yet, but that could change any second. He weighed his options carefully.

He could get down, be immediately beaten up, have his jumper stolen, and get told off by Madam Nelson for starting trouble, or he could jump off the other side. He couldn't just stay up there. Maybe he should just give her the jumper; it wasn't worth the trouble for something so stupid. But then again, it was his jumper. He was so sick of people walking all over him.

The wall was fairly wide, Harry could probably walk on it if he was careful. Looking over, he could see that it stretched all the way around the orphanage grounds, joining with the very back of the orphanage.

So Harry jumped over the edge. His body hit the floor with a surprising lightness, as he felt the small tingle once again. Running along the wall, he felt a sense of glee. He was out. Other than school, he hadn't left the orphanage for months. Coming to a slow, he realised that he could relax.

There was no one chasing him. No one watching. No one had seen him go, so there was no one waiting for him. He was truly alone for the first time in his life.

It was glorious.

Even Tom was silent. This was a peace Harry had never felt before. How could anyone have a problem with this? How could something like loneliness even exist if this is what it felt like?

He sat there; back against the cement wall, for almost twenty minutes, just enjoying the peace of the forest that sat before him.

_"Harry, do you remember what you came here for?"_ Tom finally broke the silence.

With a sigh and a sense of calm Harry pulled himself up from the soft grass, dusting himself off slightly.

"Yes, somehow I managed to forget the one instruction you gave me half an hour ago, I really am that stupid, how did you know?" Sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

To prove his point he began picking up random discarded sticks.

_"It can't be just any stick… find one that stands out to you…"_

Harry spent the good part of an hour looking through random sticks, not venturing too far into the woods, but covering a large surface area none the less.

Eventually he found a decently sized branch, about as long as his forearm, and just as thick as a grown man's thumb. It was dark in colour, and small black thorns were spotted over the curved stick. Picking off the thorns towards the thicker end, he confirmed that this was an okay choice with Tom.

_"Black Thorn…Interesting… That will certainly do."_

"What was the point of this again?" Harry thought this had better be worth it, since he'd just spent a good hour of his time on it.

_"Magic… bursts from wizards and witches… a force that is difficult to control… Long ago they found that staffs and walking sticks acted as a funnel…concentrating the magic…not long after, wands replaced staffs, concentrating the magic to the point that it could be perfectly controlled…the art of wandless magic is difficult because it is like trying to manually contain an aura you give off…"_

"What, so this is a wand then?" It couldn't possibly be that easy, could it?

_"No… a wand needs a magical conductor… this should work for you… you can learn to control your magic without a wand… It will be easier to learn before you learn to use a real wand… like learning to ride a bike without ever using stablisers…"_

"So I'm not reliant on it, okay, I see, but what purpose does this serve?" He gestured to the stick.

_"You must picture the magic, flowing from the wand. If you can manually concentrate it to the point of a stick… you can do it without the aid of anything."_

Harry pointed the wand at a rock, thinking rather hard at it.

_"No… You must need it to happen… Want it as though your life depends on it… It will become easier, magic is like a muscle…"_

Harry relaxed his pose, looking at the rock. He needed it to grow. He needed it so badly.

He felt a very faint tingle, much less obvious than previous times, and before his very eyes, the rock grew to the size of a small boulder.

With a vicious grin, Harry strode around the forest, practising this again, and again, and again, until the sky had turned from a light grey to a deep blue. Checking his watch, he realised it was dinner time.

He scurried along the wall to the section that almost connects to the back wall of the orphanage, with an abnormally high jump, he was on the wall, checking his watch again, he found that dinner was very nearly over, but looking over to the closest window, he got an idea.

Jumping to the ground, he sneaked back into the building, creeping up the stairs, to Elliana's room.

Working quickly, he gathered all of her clothes, and threw them out the window. He ran back to his room along the hall, opening his window and waiting.

He didn't have to wait long.

He heard the scream from several windows along, Elliana swearing and cursing through the open window. The screams were quickly followed by the thudding of dozens of feet down the stairs, excited to see what was going on.

After a moment, he saw her emerge from the back door, followed by most of the kids at the orphanage, but before she could get close to them, Harry acted.

Pointing his wand at the pile, he had just one desire.

The clothes burst into flame, throwing back the girl only a few feet away from the plumes of heat!

She screamed again, this time out of fear, looking around frantically for whoever could have done it, her eyes caught Harry's, looking at her from the window.

The glint of fear in her eyes said enough.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

 

No one could prove he had done it, but Elliana had insisted to everyone that would listen that Harry had burnt her clothes. Even Madam Nelson had told her to see reason; there was no way it could had been Harry, no matter how much it must have been him, no one could set clothes on fire from a story up.

Not even him.

It was soon after that people had started leaving him alone. Except for Nathan and Peter of course, but he could deal with that. He had. He had dealt with that for almost two years now.

Despite the fact that only a few kids remained from the time that incident took place, Nathan and Peter were the only children to still look down on Harry. Things had gotten mildly better though; their bullying no longer got the joyful ovation it used to, the kids were too afraid of Harry's temper to laugh.

Peter had lost interest, but Nathan seemed to take it as a challenge.

It was a rainy day after school, and Harry was walking along in his suspiciously warm clothes, when Nathan decided to act.

"Hey Harry!" Nathan ran up to him, "Look, hey, I just wanted to say sorry. Sorry for all the things we're done to you." As he spoke, Peter nodded alongside him. "We know you don't have any reason to forgive us, but I have something that can make it up to you, I promise!" Harry gave him a suspicious look.

"Oh yeah?" He asked, not fooled for a second.

"Just meet us in the forest over the wall at 5, okay? You're in there all the time; you know that old trunk that's fallen over? Go there." Yes, Harry had been in the forest almost every day since the incident with Elliana. Nathan really looked quite genuine. He was certainly an impressive liar.

"Oh, and don't tell anyone, it's got to be our little secret!"

"Alright then." Harry nodded, doing his best to humour them. With a friendly smile, they both ran off to find cover. He had spent the next two hours planning for the obvious trap. Tucking his 'wand' into the trouser pocket he'd specifically lengthened for this purpose. He was much less reliant on his wand, it worked as more of a placebo these days, but he wanted it for this.

This was going to be special.

He sneaked behind the building and jumped over the wall like usual, falling to the floor lightly, and took off towards the small side gate. Sure enough, Nathan and Peter's footprints were already deep in the mud. Harry stamped the footprints, making them much harder to ignore, and followed along all the footprints in that fashion, splashing mud all the way up to his knees.

Finally he found the clearing with the trunk, where Nathan and Peter were sitting, looking excited.

"Harry, you made it!" Nathan seemed very pleased, giving a friendly wave. Peter snickered at the state of Harry, who looked a mess. His legs were covered up to his knees in mud, trousers long ruined, his hair the usual chaotic nightmare, only accentuated by its dampness, and small streams of dirty rainwater dripped down his cheeks, leaving mud trails in their wake.

"You asked me to." Harry responded, apathetic to the state of his clothes and hair.

"And you actually came!" Peter giggled, as the both jumped down from the log, walking over to him.

"You said you have something to show me?" Harry grasped the wand in his pocket.

"Yeah, look, isn't this cool?" Nathan said, pulling out a small, sliver knife. Harry took a small intake of breath, he didn't expect this. This would be a bit more problematic.

"It's so cool, isn't it Harry?" Peter cackled, advancing towards him slowly.

"Are you going to kill me?" He asked calmly.

"Haven't decided yet, are you going to tell on us?" Nathan seemed to consider this for a second.

"What will you do if I say no?" Harry asked him calmly once again.

"Probably just cut you up a bit, maybe on your forehead, no one will notice, they'll just think it's part of that freaky scar you've got." Nathan seemed rather gleeful.

"I see." Harry responded emotionlessly. He pulled out his wand, which was met with laughter.

"Oh no, he he's got a thorny stick, what'll we do?" Peter laughed hysterically. Then he fell to the floor, mid-cackle, the green flash of light disappearing as quickly as it came.

Nathan didn't even seem to realise what had happened, staring blankly at the cooling child's corpse.

Then he looked up. He ran at Harry, and was hit with a red light. He immediately crumpled to the ground screaming, but was quickly silenced, mouth stretched open as his screams seemed to disappear. For the first time in years, Harry smiled.

It was a hideous smile, wrong somehow, as though it should have never happened. He let out a small laugh, but quickly stopped; hating the strangled cry that had come from his own throat.

He was relishing the moment, the joy of revenge, the first real thing he'd felt in years, pure thrill drilling its way into his bones. This was payback for everything Nathan had ever done to him, he was only disappointed he had acted so rashly with Peter, he was always the infuriating one.

After a decent enough period of torturing Nathan, he finally released him from the spell. He stepped over the now gasping and crying boy, and straddled his chest, picking up the discarded knife from the forest floor.

"Don't worry, Nathan, I won't tell."

He slammed the knife into Nathan's throat, watching the blood spurt out, before slowing into a waterfall of red cascading down his neck. It seeped onto the mud below, immediately disappearing into the brown sludge. Any blood left on his skin lashed away by the furious rain, still pounding into his flesh.

Harry finally stepped up from the body, taking the knife with him, pocketing it alongside his wand. Looking around, he knew there was nothing that could link him to this evidence-wise. He had only touched the knife, but as long as no one found it, it couldn't be linked to him.

_"If you leave the other boy like that… the wizarding authorities will get involved… they could trace it back to you…"_ Tom helpfully joined the moment.

So, Harry walked over the Peter's corpse and slit his throat, much more artfully than he had with Nathan. Wiping the blood off on Peter's clothes he once again pocketed the knife and strode off, back towards the orphanage, careful not to leave any footprints. He washed his hands and wrists of in the rain, but there was no saving his tatty clothes by any normal means.

In a moment his clothes were dried, cleaned, and warm. Even when he ventured into the downpour once again, he remained dry and toasty. Convenient thing; magic.

He jumped over the wall and managed to climb in through a window unseen, and creep down to the dinner hall. He was only five minutes late. He was unbothered throughout his meal, as usual, but made a point of tripping over some boy, just to make sure they remembered where he was.

Harry had lay in bed that night, in the pitch dark, and for the last time in years, he smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was thrilled. His Hogwarts letter was due any day now, according to Tom. Although Tom didn’t seem to remember a lot about the world, but he seemed to know enough to fill Harry in on the important bits; Hogwarts, the four houses, etc.

And of course, Dumbledore.

Harry remember the first time he had heard that name, crouched behind a sofa, his aunt screeching his fault in Harry’s life. It was one of his earliest imprinted memories, and it was a vivid as his hand in front of his eyes, that is to say, excellent, since he had gotten a new pair of thin, rectangular glasses.

Oh yes, Dumbledore, the meddling old man that had ruined Harry’s life. He should thank him really, after all, it was thanks to him he met Tom. If not for Tom, who knows what could have become of him? Reliant on a wand, a hapless orphan, knowing nothing about the world he came from.

Tom was a true friend, and Dumbledore, well… he certainly was not.

And it was so, that every day of June, Harry waited. Though, he still went to the forest almost everyday, practicing. He would often gaze at the spot where Nathan and Peter died, fondly remembering the screams that could be heard all the way from the orphanage when the joggers found them.

The police had no idea what to do, and the case was never closed. It had been so _ easy _ .

It was on one such day, when he was in the woods on a Friday after school that a small, brown owl swooped down towards him.

“Finally.” He muttered, too excited to sound annoyed. He inspected the envelope, which read;

 

_ “To Mr Harry Potter, _

_ Room 19 _

_ Sunny Starts Orphanage _

_ 12, Chenton Drive _

_ Surrey” _

 

He carefully opened the letter, ceremoniously, as though it were precious. Cracking open the seal with baited breath, Harry turned the letter around to read it.

 

_ Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE _

_ (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards) _

 

_ Dear Mr. Potter, _

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. _

_ Yours sincerely, _

_ Minerva McGonagall _

_ Deputy Headmistress _

 

_ HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY _

 

_ UNIFORM _

 

_ First-year students will require: _

_ 1.Three sets of plain work robes (black) _

_ 2.One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear _

_ 3.One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) _

_ 4.One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings) _

_ Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags. _

 

_ COURSE BOOKS _

_ All students should have a copy of each of the following: _

_ The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk _

_ A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot _

_ Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling _

_ A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch _

_ One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore _

_ Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger _

_ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander _

_ The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble _

 

_ OTHER EQUIPMENT _

_ 1 wand _

_ 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) _

_ 1 set glass or crystal phials _

_ 1 telescope _

_ 1 set brass scales _

_ Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad. _

 

_ PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS _

 

He read the letter again. And again. And again, hungrily. He immediately ran back into the orphanage, followed by the owl,  straight up to his room, and sat at his desk. He quickly scribbled down an acceptance letter, which he sent off with the owl that had followed him all the way back.

Then he wrote an almost identical letter to the one he had just received, excluding all of the witchcraft stuff. He quickly used a copying spell to clone the signatures onto the letter.

Harry carefully placed the original letter in his old, leather suitcase, along with his few, precious belongings, including his old jumper, and his old thorny branch. He turned back to the letter on the desk.

He picked that up immediately and left for Madam’s Nelson’s office, meeting no hindrances whatsoever.

“Madam Nelson?” He knocked on the open door.

“Yes, what is it?” She asked, not looking up from her paperwork.

“Well, it’s just that I got a letter. From a school.” He said in his meekest voice. She looked up sharply.

“What? Let me see.” He beckoned him over.

“It’s a boarding school, so I’ll only be back during the summers. I was really hoping I could go.”

“Who paid for this?” She tore the letter from his hands and scanned the letter with a hawk eye.

“My parents, before they died. They also set up a fund so I can buy stuff for it apparently.” Harry could tell she was very tempted at the idea of not seeing him for most of the year.

“Well. I suppose that should be fine, just tell them to fill in the paperwork when you get there.” She put the letter into her pile of paper.

He could tell she was worried about him ruining his chances by telling them about extra paperwork too soon.

“I was going to go to London tomorrow, to do the shopping?” Harry tried.

“Yes, yes, that’ll be fine.” She waved him out. Wow, she really hated him, that was straight-up illegal. He left the office for lunch, already planning a wonderful day out.

 

* * *

 

He looked down the road, clutching the leather briefcase containing his savings and few belongings, sans clothes of course. #he didn't like leaving his possessions at the orphanage; although no one would dare bother him, he didn't want to risk some cocky new arrival getting nosy.

He was dressed in his best clothes, clean brown trousers, a deep blue polo shirt, his blue converse, and his brand new maroon hoodie. He’d taken it out of the older kids’ clothes bin, so it was slightly large for him, but not so much that he looked ridiculous, it just lent him an air of innocence that could serve him very well.

To the common eye, he was just another preteen on a day out in London. Well, except for the scar. The pale fractal pattern that scattered over the right side of his head, one thin, long, strand creeping over his eyebrow and running down over his right eyelid. It looked as though someone had ripped his head apart and jammed it back together again, not quite fitting. It looked like a burst of lightning. Actually, it was a curious thing, the scar, it seemed to almost grow over the years, overtaking more and more of his face.

To be honest, his scar was one of the only things Harry liked about his appearance. That’s why he kept it unhidden by his short, messy hair.

The only other thing that ruined his innocent act was the sharpness of his face, the one that made him look suspicious, the reason everyone seemed to easily believe the worst of him. It was a small flaw, but only slightly inconvenient for him, after all, fuel is always needed to start the fire of doubt.

“ _ The leaky cauldron… _ ”

“Yes, Tom, I know.” He thought back, honestly, as if he could forget the name of a gateway into the magical world. He’d been dying to come here for nearly a year, since Tom told him about it, but as Tom explained, child trust funds in the magical world are only accessible when they receive their Hogwarts letter, and Harry wasn’t sure that he could walk through a world like that without being able to interact with it. Only wizard money was acceptable there, and the conversion rate might have left Harry with a few sickles, so, he had waited.

He strode up to the small pub, and walked in. He was met with the illustrious feel of magic. It was an old, run-down looking pub, with a good few patrons bustling about, having an early lunch, or having a drink of something orange at the bar. He began to walk towards the back, when he froze.

“Oh Merlin, it can’t be.”

“Is that really…”

“It’s Harry Potter!”

And Harry was immediately met with a round of applause, people reaching for him, grabbing his hand, shaking his shoulder, swarming him with yells of surprise and joy. Harry was suddenly confused and frustrated.

“Umm, hello?” He tried. He was only ignored, as everyone continued to crowd him, muttering and squealing.

“He looks just like his father!”

“But he has his mother’s eyes!”

Then something caught his attention.

“Oh, he even has the scar!” One young-ish looking witch mumbled, staring at him. He reached up to touch the scar, confused. Was this how they recognised him?

“ _ They admire you…use it! _ ”

“Hello everyone!” He turned on a smile, “I was just hoping to get some shopping done, and I was really hoping for some peace?”

“Oh, you’re not here alone are you? I’ll come with you!” Several different ‘fans’ immediately countered. Harry must have let his concern show on his face, because just then someone stood up.

“A-actua-tually, I-I am-m h-here t-t-to hel-help w-ith m-m-m-mr Pot-pot-otter’s sh-shopping.” A tall, turbaned man stuttered.

“Uh, Yeah, he is. I will once again just ask for some peace?” Harry begged the crowd.

“Oh, of course Harry!”

“As long as you’re safe!”

The patrons returned back to their activities with a fair reluctance, as Harry followed the strange man towards the alleyway. The man took out his wand, tapping it to the wall several times, revealing a large doorway. Harry just stared through it, at the quiet, beautiful world he was about to enter. He looked back to the man.

“I-I am-m p-prof-professor Qu-Quirrell. I wi-will b-be yo-your d-d-d-defen-defence t-teacher thi-is y-year.” He managed to just stutter out.

“Well, I greatly appreciate the help, sir.” Harry gave him a charming smile, hoping to garner favour before the school year had even begun. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just be off to meet my guardian now, but thanks again!” Harry smiled.

Quirrell smiled at him, “If-f y-y-you s-sa-say so-o,” before taking off to the left, down some other road. Harry was shocked it had been so easy to ditch the man. He really seemed as though he was going to accompany Harry.

“ _ Maybe he will… You just won’t know it… _ ”

Of course, he must be preparing to follow Harry in secret. Oh well, he’d just have to be on his best behaviour then. He was sure Quirrell would make himself scarce. That just left him with another problem. He was famous?

“ _ I had no…idea… _ ”

But what exactly was he famous for? How? He hadn’t been in contact with anyone magical since his parents died, so how did they recognise him just from his face? His scar? That must have been it, surely? They seemed to know what his parents looked like, maybe that was it? But what did his parents look like? All he knew from Tom was that he looked like his dad, with his mother’s eyes.

Either way, he find anything out just standing there. He took a deep breath, and left the small alleyway, stepping into bustling streets on Diagon Alley. Luckily, no one seemed to notice him, everyone far too busy with their back to school shopping to see him, and quickly he disappeared into the hoards of happy witches and wizards.

First stop, Gringotts bank.

He took note of the warning on the front of the bank that read:

 

_ Enter stranger, but take heed _

_ Of what awaits the sin of greed _

_ For those who take, but do not earn _

_ Must pay most dearly in their turn _

_ So if you seek beneath our floors _

_ A treasure that was never yours _

_ Thief, you have been warned, beware _

_ Of finding more than treasure there. _

 

Well that was ominous. He passed the through the tall, imposing doors, and felt a gentle cool air, a serious contrast from the hot summer air outside.

He walked to the nearest available teller, and politely inclined his head, just how Tom taught him.

“Hello sir.” That was important. Let the Goblin respond to him, it made it more like a conversation than a transaction, and the ‘sir’ would likely help the goblin feel more comfortable with helping him.

“Hello.” The goblin seemed to preen with the respect. “How may I help?” It asked, clearly much more awake than the other tellers dealing with customers.

“Well, Mr… uh…”

“Goldfang” The goblin flashed a toothy grin.

“Well, Mr Goldfang, I was hoping to access my account? It should be for the name Potter.” Harry weakly smiled, the image of a polite child.

“I see, and do you have your key, mister Potter?”

“Uh, no sir, I didn’t realise I needed one.” Harry was truly puzzled by this. He had never had a key for the account as far as he was aware.

“That should be no problem, your magical guardian must have it. That must be Dumbledore, yes?” The goblin seemed to almost spit the man’s name. “He is the wizards’ automatic guardian to orphans is he not?”

“I didn’t know that.”Harry growled, before quickly trying to hide his aggression. He knew he had failed when Goldfang gave him a considering look.

“Well, Mr Potter, if you’ll just allow me to take a drop of blood, the key can be recalled for you.” Goldfang stared at him with his beady black eyes.

“Oh, yes please.” Harry rolled up his sleeve for Goldfang, who reached over with a knife and a small phial. Stabbing Harry lightly over his wrist, he held the phial to the wound, and squeezed out several drops of blood. He proceeded to pull a small bowl out from under his desk, full of a strange blue liquid, and poured the contents of the phial into it. Waving his hand over, he muttered something, and the liquid vanished.

From the bowl, he pulled out a small, brass key.

“This is yours Mr Potter, and as long as you hold this, no one else may legally interact with your account without your expressed permission.” He held the key out to Harry.

“Thank you, sir!” Harry stared at the small key with slight wonder, considering how he could ensure its safety. On a string like a necklace? He was pulled from his thoughts by the teller calling a smaller, younger goblin forwards.

“This is Griphook. He will escort you to your vault.” Griphook made to leave, clearly expecting Harry to follow him, when Goldfang gripped him by his shoulder, whispering something in his ear. Griphook nodded, and turned back to Harry.

“This way Mr Potter.” He walked off once more.

“Thanks for all your help!” Harry called after him to Goldfang.

Yes. Almost just as rehearsed.

After getting off the roller coaster mine cart, he was met with a tall dark door. He handed the small key over to Griphook’s outstretched claws. The small goblin proceeded to run his hand over the door, and inserting the small key into the small keyhole that appeared.

When the door opened, Harry was shocked.

Piles and piles of gold, stacks of silver, small trinkets and old, dog-eared books filling the room from floor to ceiling. Harry could do nothing but gape for several seconds. He had had no idea he had this much money. Wait, this must be the main account though, right?

“Um, Mr Griphook? This isn’t the main family account is it?”

“No, this is specifically your vault, created the 5th of August 1980 by your parents Lily and James Potter.” Griphook seemed to be very entertained by Harry’s shock, showing many teeth. 

“Everything in this vault was specifically chosen for you to have at this age.”

Harry looked at his briefcase rather hopelessly. It could certainly not fit as much as he wanted inside it.

“Enlarge it… Just the inside, it’s difficult, but you should be … able to do it.”

Harry’s grip on his case tightened, as he scrunched up his nose slightly. For something so difficult, concentration was required.Finally he set it down to the gold-covered floor, opening it. He was shocked to see that the inside was now huge just the size of a room, maybe twice the size of his small room back at the orphanage. Grinning, he started piling dozens and dozens of coins into it.  After he deemed that he had enough money for the year, he started to look around the huge room a bit more. He noticed several books, all various ancient guides to magic. Then he found one book he paused on.

_ The Tales of Beedle The Bard _

Flicking through, he saw it was a children’s story book. The stories that never got read to him. He clutched it to his chest, before carefully dropping it into the case as well. It would be useful, yes, he could learn about the culture some more. Yes, very important.

There were some other items in the vault, wands, and small trinkets, but he passed over the wands with little thought, they were pointless to him. Most of the trinkets were items of jewelry.

“Some of the items have enchantments on them. We can provide a list of which items and their enchantments if you desire.” Griphook cut in.

“Yes, please.” Harry stood from his crouch.

Griphook pulled out a sheet of parchment from seemingly nowhere, and handed it over to Harry. Skimming the list he saw that most of the items were charmed for protection of some sort. He picked out a small, plain, gold ring, that had a “Notice-me-not” charm on it. If the charm did what it said it would, this would make shopping much easier.

“Do I have to wear this for the enchantment to work?” Harry held the ring out to the goblin. He had never been one for jewelry.

“I believe so, but there are those that go about changing the object of the enchantment, in fact, I believe there is one down Knockturn alley, that goes by the name Borgin and Burkes.” The goblin gave him a sinister grin.

“Oh okay, thanks.” Harry nodded at him, slipping on the ring with a sigh.

Deciding he was done here, Griphook escorted him back through the bank to the foyer.

“Thanks again for all the help!” Harry waved goodbye to Griphook, receiving an approving look from the goblins nearby.

As he left the bank, he checked his list, trying to decide what to get first. After a few moments of consideration, he began heading for Madam Malkin’s Robes For All Occasions.

As he walked along, he noticed that absolutely no-one was looking at him, not even passingly along the street. Looks like the ring worked perfectly, now, if he could only change it into a necklace or something, even just put it on a string around his neck.

He arrived in the shop, and stood there for several minutes, before noticing his mistake. Pulling off his ring, he was met by a rather short, portly woman that looked to be in her mid-fifties.

“Oh hello dear, how can I-” She stopped as soon as she saw his scar.

“Hello miss, I was looking to buy my school uniform, and maybe some other robes as well?” Harry pretended to not notice her gaping.

“Oh, yes, of course!” She bustled around the counter towards him. “If you’ll just step up here Mr Potter.” She lead him over to a small platform, next to another one with a small blonde boy being measured, who seemed to suddenly perk up at the mention of Harry’s name.

“ _ He is a Malfoy… They are important, and very influential… Use him, and your fame if you can. _ ” Tom perked up at the sight of the child.

“Hello there.” The boy, Malfoy, greeted him, as Harry was being measured.

“Hi.” Harry said shortly. He could already tell what sort of boy this was. The way he was desperately trying to polite when his eyes so clearly said he was excited, showed exactly what he was trying to do. He was going to befriend Harry, likely to use this ‘fame’ of his to gain more influence, if what Tom said was true, and his parents had probably told him to do exactly that. Well. Harry was not going to be used. He was going to use.

“Draco Malfoy.” The boy reached over to Harry, extending his hand.

“Harry. Harry Potter.” He shook Malfoy’s hand. He was certainly not going to be the one to sustain this conversation. Let Malfoy feel uncomfortable, make him feel like he has to try hard. It would leave a lasting impression on their future relationship, after all, first impressions are so hard to wipe away. After a moment, he took the bait.

“Excited for Hogwarts? I am. I know I’ll be in Slytherin, I don’t think there’s any point in the other houses to be honest. Where do you think you’ll be going?” He bragged with a slimy sort of voice.

“Slytherin. Or maybe Hufflepuff.” Harry decided to throw a spanner in the clockwork-like brain of this poor little boy.

“Hufflepuff?” He spluttered incredulously. “But they’re-”

“Hard workers. Yes. Don’t you work hard, Malfoy?” Harry met his gaze blankly.

“Well yes, but-” He cut himself off as a blonde woman entered the shop, striding towards them. Looking like he’d remembered his mission, and probably trying to impress the woman that could only have been his mother, he turned back to Harry.

“Well, no matter what house you’re in, you’ll need company I imagine?” The cool, smug voice was back.

“I suppose I will.” Harry nodded at him. With the clear agreement between them dawning on the mother, she interrupted the conversation.

“Come, Draco, we must leave.” He stood regally, looking between the two boys with something akin to pride in her eyes.

“See you soon.” Draco nodded again, before leaving the shop, hold a new set of robes in his arms.

After a few more minutes, Madam Malkin had asked Harry what sort of other robes he had wanted, an he had ordered two sets of everyday robes, and a set of dress robes. She had informed him that they would be complete and ready within the hour, and he had left to finish his shopping, once again with the ring.

He later collected his clothes after a trip to the apothecary and the book shop, and set down for lunch at a nice-looking café. All that was left was his wand.

“ _ And an owl _ .” Tom reminded him.

He’d get the owl last, he just wanted to get the wand bit over with.

Entering Ollivander’s he wondered why everything in the wizarding world was so dusty when they had cleaning charms. He stood there for a moment, until an old man emerged from a back door, looking Harry over with an unnerving amount of interest in his pale eyes.

“Hello, Mr Potter.” Harry was really sick of everyone knowing his name, he must have heard the word ‘Potter’ about a hundred times just that day.

“Hi, I was hoping to buy a wand?” Harry still put up his cutesy act, although he could tell Ollivander was not an easy to fool man, despite how he may seem.

“Of course, of course.” He muttered, and just like that they began trying wands. Every time, Ollivander would hand Harry a wand,  and Harry would halfheartedly wave it, and something would blow up. It was a very odd feeling, using a wand for the first time. It was very restricting. His placebo had been more of a mental exercise, but this felt like it was actually sucking his magic through it. Very Strange.

They went through wand, after wand, after wand, Olliander becoming more and more excited each time. After “Cherry wood, Dragon heart string, 10 inches” Ollivander stopped.

“I wonder…” He muttered before wandering through the back door once more, emerging moments later, with a dusty, (Seriously, did wizards actually know that cleaning spells existed) thin box. He pulled it out, looking at in a sort of wonder, and handed it to Harry carefully.

The moment Harry felt it, something strange happened, sparks shot from the tip of the wand, green and gold, before they began somehow melting the wood floor floor below. The wand was snatched from him.

“Curious, very curious.” Ollivander looked shocked.

“Um, what’s curious?”

“The core of this wand, it responds to you, but the wood is… incompatible. I may have to adjust it, I suspect this is the only core for you. Curious.” Ollivander muttered, wandering towards the back.

“Wait, when will it be ready?” Harry called after him. Seeming to remember Harry was there, Ollivander turned back to him.

“Oh, not too long, I believe you were close with this wand,” He pulled another wand from the discard pile, “I may just need to switch the cores. Perhaps an hour?” Before waiting for an answer, he left the room.

Bloody excellent. He didn’t even want a wand.

With a sigh he left the shop, and decided to go buy an owl. He could probably waste an hour looking at the animals.

 

* * *

 

There were a variety of animals at Eeylops Owl Emporium, despite what the name implied. There were crups, kneazles, all sorts of reptiles, and yes, owls. He was looking through the small lizard-like creatures when he heard an angry voice.

“ _ Cold… Too cold. Bad wet. _ ” He couldn’t see who the voice belonged to, there were only a few other people in the shop, and they were nowhere near him.

“ _ Bad bad bad wet. _ ” The voice continued. Harry started walking in the direction it came from, only to see a tank with three snakes draped over fake branches.

“ _ Yes, we know, bad wet, shut. _ ” Another voice came. Harry stared. It was the snakes. Fascinating, but why could none of the other animals speak?

“ _ They can’t… You can speak to them… Only you can speak to them… _ ” Tom explained.

He could speak to snakes? And it wasn’t a wizarding thing? How strange. The snakes were still complaining, and Harry decided to try this out.

“ _ How is the wet bad? _ ” Harry asked, politely. The snakes lost their minds.

“ _ A Speaker! _ ”

“ _ He can speak, he can understand! _ ”

“ _ Among us, oh a speaker! _ ”

“ _ Yes, yes, shh, or someone will come over. _ ” Harry quieted them down. “ _ Now, how is the wet bad? _ ”

“ _ Oh speaker, it taste wrong. Bad for scales. Itchy _ .” Harry looked at the base of the tank that was full of water, and saw that the complaining snake was carefully avoiding it. It was a long snake, with pale grey scales, and deep silvery eyes. The other two snakes were an iridescent silver with black stripes, and were clearly much more comfortable, stretching into the water.

“ _ It’s a black mamba…It isn’t an aquatic species… The other two are sea krait. _ ” Tom read off his apparently encyclopedic knowledge of snakes. Harry slid off his ring, and waited

Sure enough, a shop assistant quickly bustled over, glanced at his scar and gulped slightly.

“Hello sir, how may I help you?” The poor young man looked terrified. Ah, fame.

“This snake is in the wrong habitat.” Harry pointed to it. “It’s a black mamba, they don’t belong in water.”

The shop assistant looked at him in horror.

“I’m ever so sorry sir, I’ll move it at once, unless you want it sir? It would be free of charge of course, for the inconvenience.” He stuttered out quickly. Harry looked at the snake, contemplating. He wasn’t really sure he wanted a snake, but it could serve to be very useful, it could go places Harry couldn’t. The Hogwarts letter hadn’t technically disallowed any pets other than the ones listed. Finally deciding, he turned to the man.

“Yes, okay, but I also need an owl, which I’ll pay for myself.” The assistant smiled in relief, before pulling out his wand, and levitate the snake into a new, dry tank, and floating it over to the counter. “Right this way sir.” The man lead Harry over to the area full of owls.

They were all rather handsome animals, but Harry saw one that caught his eye. A white snowy owl with large amber eyes. He reached out to her, ignoring the panicked gasp of the assistant, and she hopped onto his outreached forearm. He held his other hand out to her, and she nipped his finger, drawing a small amount of blood. He almost didn’t notice the pain, and began to stroke her feathers, smearing her with blood.

“She’s rather aggressive, but she she seems to really like you.” The assistant muttered, eyes wide at the frankly alarming display.

“Well, I’ll have her.” Harry commanded, not looking at the man.

He left the shop with both animals in separate travel containers, and sat at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, enjoying an unmelting mint choc chip ice cream and brainstorming names. Finally he reached a decision.

“You will be Hedwig.” He says to the owl, who hooted slightly in approval.

“ _ And you- wait, are you female? _ ” Harry suddenly realised he had no idea what gender the snake was; the voice was very ambiguous.

“ _ No, no female, no eggs. _ ” The snake responded excitedly, obviously very pleased with the way things were going for him.

“ _ Okay, then you will be Zaccai. _ ” The snake reared in delight at its new label. Well that went down well. He considered for a moment.

 

“ _ May I hold you?” _ He asked Zaccai curiously.

“ _ Yes, Speaker, it’s honour! _ ” He responded excitedly, already coming towards the front of the container. Harry reached in and pulled the pale creature out. He was just over a meter long, stretching over Harry’s arms and shoulders calmingly.

“ _ Careful… The Black Mamba is considered the most deadly snake in the world… _ ” Even as Tom said this, Harry couldn’t help but feel very relaxed with Zaccai sprawled over his upper body. Maybe he was wrong about having a snake, is was quite nice. And if he could hide him under his clothes he could very easily sneak him into the orphanage, he just needed to get past the door, no one bothered him in his room anymore.

He finished his ice cream and went to collect his wand, Zaccai still wrapped around him comfortably. He walked in the shop, to have Ollivander rush out immediately, even before Harry had pulled off his ring.

“Ah, Mr Potter, here we are. 11 inches, Blackthorn, Phoenix Feather.” He held out a a darkly tinted wand, with a ball-like rounded end, and a sharp tip. The handle had a twisting pattern in the polished wood, and a small swirly pattern followed from the top of the handle to the tip on each visible side of the wood. It was a very attractive wand, all in all.

Harry reached out to take it, and just as before, a small stream of green and gold sparks appeared from the end, but this time lacking the impossible levels of destruction. Speaking of, all the signs of his previous visit were gone completely, no exploded vase, no knocked over boxes, and no blackened, charred floorboards. And yet, there was still dust coating everything! It must be on purpose, surely? For some some of air of mystery?

As Harry began to be lost in his musings, Ollivander interrupted.

“So very curious.” His pale eyes stared at Harry.

“What is, Sir?” Harry suspected that was his favourite word.

“The core of that wand, very particular, phoenix feather, now I remember that phoenix, and it was very strange.  That phoenix gave two feathers. It just so happens that the brother of this feather is in the wand that gave you that scar.” Ollivander was standing very close now, and Harry couldn’t help himself from giving in to his curiosity.

“How? How did I get this scar?” Harry asked him, almost desperately, this man was very clearly not fooled by anything Harry was putting on, and this was something crucial that he would need to know, especially if it was connected to his fame.

“You don’t know? Ah, Well, that would explain much. Well, just decades ago, a great wizard appeared. Now, understand this, he was great, but most certainly evil, and he brought with him years of vicious war, an age of terror from which all hope seemed lost.” His face seemed to be reliving this time, as Harry stared at him, transfixed.

“One night, on Halloween, he went after your family, the Potters, in their home. They had been in hiding, protected by their friend, Sirius Black, but alas, he had betrayed them. No one really knows what happened that night, but they know he struck down your parents, and he came to you. No one knows how, but something about you stopped him that night. The only living thing found in the rubble of the house was you, your forehead marked with a lightning bolt scar. You are so well known in this world because of what you represent Mr Potter, and because of what you brought about.” Ollivander finished his tale looking into the distance pensively.

Harry was reeling, trying to understand the new information, then it clicked. His nightmare, the green flash of light, the one that was so like when he killed Peter. But there were still things he was dying to know.

“What happened to Sirius Black?” Harry ripped Ollivander from his blank gaze.

“Ah, Azkaban, a truly cruel fate. The worst prison in the world.” The old man seemed to feel sympathy for this man. Harry did not. He would remember this name; Sirius Black.

“Oh, one last thing. The name of the great wizard, what was it?”

“There are many that fear the name too much to speak it, but I will say it just once to tell you. His name was Voldemort.” Ollivander seemed to internally shiver at the name.

“Anyway, ” Ollivander continued briskly, shaken out of his previous mood, “That will be nine galleons Mr Potter, oh, and I would amplify the spell on that ring if I were you.” He gave Harry a conspiratorial look as Harry handed over nine gold coins.

Harry felt much better leaving the shop, but still shaken over the story he’d just heard. He thought about it all the way back to the orphanage on the train, through dinner, and even when he went to bed.

 

With Zaccai comfortably dozing in his magically heated tank, and Hedwig perched on his over-head shelf, Harry lay, eyes wide open, on his lumpy, dirty mattress.

Who could blame him if he didn’t sleep? He’d had a very busy day.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finally gets to Hogwarts

Harry sat in an empty compartment on the train, absently stroking Hedwig, who was perched on his lap. Zaccai was sprawled comfortably over his shoulders, and was vaguely looking through the window onto the platform, full of parents hugging children goodbye.

Harry was also watching one such family, a large group of redheads, all covered in freckles and, soot? Why were they covered in soot? Totally bizarre.

He had spent the past fifteen minutes since arriving at platform 9¾ watching every child, assessing them with his cold, acidic eyes. That girl was arrogant, that boy was nervous, that boy was weak. It was really quite entertaining, which was good because Harry had already gone through his textbooks, obsessively learning the information in advance.

When he had arrived, he saw Malfoy climb daintily onto the train with some friends, undoubtedly childhood friends. Harry had decided not to follow after him, he was sending a very clear message, he would not be the one to chase Malfoy, and he was certainly not going to be the only one in the compartment that wasn't already acquainted with everyone. By cutting in on a tight-knit group of friends, he would be perceived as a natural outsider. He was not joining their group, they would be joining his.

The Red-headed family finally started saying goodbye to one another, with barely five minutes to spare. Just as four of the five children departed towards the train, he noticed the young girl, who previously appeared to be complaining about something to her parents, was staring at him.

Time seemed to slow for a moment as their eyes met, her piercing brown eyes fixed on his face, mouth slightly agape, and, for a second, they both seemed to have eyes only for each other.

Then the moment broke, and she tugged on her mother's hand, pointing towards him. The woman turned away from her disappearing sons for a moment to look at the center of her daughter's attention, her eyes also widening as she spotted him.

Too late to pretend to not have seen her, he waved awkwardly at her, which caused her to send him a kind smile, and a little wave back, before saying something to her daughter and turning back to her sons.

As the train began to move, the reduced family started running along with it, waving the whole time until the train finally turned a corner. With this, the sound of many children finally sitting down thundered across the carriages. After just a few moments of peace, Harry heard a small knock on the door, and turned to see the smallest ginger boy from before, sheepishly entering the compartment.

"Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full." He glanced around the compartment, not really looking at Harry.

"Of course." Harry gestured to the seat opposite him.

As he practically collapsed on the seat, the boy finally looked at Harry, and his eyes widened slightly as they focused on the huge scar covering his face.

"Wait, you're… are you?" The boy trailed off half way through his sentence, seemingly embarrassed by his small outburst.

"Harry Potter, and you?" Harry reached out to the boy.

"Ron, Ron Weasley. Sorry, I didn't mean to be weird, it's just, it's you, you know?" Ron shook the outstretched hand. Then he noticed the snake.

"Oh my god!" Ron ripped his hand away, backing into the seat.

"This is Zaccai, and I assure you, he is perfectly friendly." Harry stroked the reptile's head while he preened in parseltoungue.

"Really? Isn't he slimy?" Ron seemed unsure, leaning forward again slightly, not taking his eyes from Zaccai.

"I promise, I mean, I wouldn't have him on my shoulders if he was dangerous would I?" Ron appeared to accept this, relaxing once again, but still not moving his eyes.

"You can stroke him if you like, he really isn't slimy, he's quite soft." This was met with very wide, disbelieving eyes from the freckled boy, who, very, very, slowly, stretched his arm out, which Harry took. Harry guided the hand to a section of the lower body, well away from Zaccai's head.

The moment Ron's hand touched Zaccai, he calmed, slumping in the seat, and stroking Zaccai.

"Hey, you're right, he actually is soft, somehow." After a few minutes of Ron gently petting the snake, who was purring in parseltoungue by this point, Harry and Ron's conversation ventured into quidditch, which Harry was finding rather an interesting concept.

They continued on this this for hours, before a small looking woman appeared, trolley in tow, offering them sweets. Harry had not really had many sweets before, as he wasn't allowed any at the Dursley's, and never had the money for them at the orphanage, but damn if he wasn't going to buy all the sweets he could ever want right now. Especially after watching Ron produce a sad-looking corned-beef sandwich from his raggy hand-me-downs. This boy could be bought, and not with money, and not technically with sweets. This boy was lonely, and Harry was going to use it.

Which is why, as they covered the opposite seat with sweets, Ron's wide-eyed stare and grin towards him ignited something in Harry.

 

Power.

 

They sat for several hours more, stuffing their faces, Zaccai and Hedwig having been put away for some peace. The boys were discussing many things about magic and sports and other such topics, Tom helpfully adding things for Harry to use in the conversation, until there was another interruption, in the form of a bushy-haired girl with buck-teeth who, apparently, didn't know how to knock.

"Have either of you seen a toad? A boy called Neville Longbottom has lost one." She glanced between the boys, noticing the many sweets piled up around them. Noticing her gaze, Harry smiled at her.

"Would you like some?" Ha asked politely, gesturing at his pile of goodies. Unfortunately this did not receive the reaction he was expecting.

"No, and you really shouldn't eat all of those anyway, they'll rot your teeth, I should know, my parents are dentists. I'm Hermione Granger by the way." She wrinkled her nose at them, speaking in a condescending tone.

Harry immediately began to break down what she was saying. Her parents were dentists, which mean she was a muggleborn, there being no dentists in the wizarding world. She was, despite this, very arrogant. That meant she felt confident in this new world, and for that she must surely be very talented. This girl, despite her nature was someone that Harry could tell he wanted on his side.

"Well if you took some, we would eat less, wouldn't we?" He grinned at her again, showcasing his white, straight, pointy teeth. Then an idea stuck him.

"You could take some for Neville Longbottom, I'm sure that would cheer him up while he looks for his toad." He suggested.

Hermione seemed to think this over for a moment, before begrudgingly picking out a few chocolate frogs.

"That's very thoughtful of you, what's your name?" She turned to Harry first.

"Harry Potter." He shook her outstretched hand. She perked up at the mention of his name, but before she could go into a spiel about him, he directed her attention to Ron, who looked rather frustrated at being ignored.

"And this is my friend, Ron Weasley." Ron's face lit up at being called Harry's friend. Hermione turned to him briefly, smiling politely, before turning back to Harry, undoubtedly to talk about him, but, again, he halted her.

"What house do you think you'll be in?" Harry asked her, also looking at Ron, trying to make the discussion a group one. This successfully distracted her, as he watched gears start turning in her eyes.

"Probably Ravenclaw, but I might also go into Gryffindor, like Dumbledore." Luckily for him, neither of his companions noticed the dark look that flickered over Harry's face when she said that name. "What about you?" She turned to Ron, finally including him in the conversation.

"Definitely Gryffindor, my whole family has been in Gryffindor; my parents, all of my brothers, even my cousins and grandparents. It would be a real shock for me to be in anything else, especially  _Slytherin_."

"What's wrong with Slytherin?" Harry was very glad Hermione asked that so that he didn't have to.

"I know a bunch of dark wizards have come from there, even You-Know-Who, but from what I can tell, it's more of a family thing, like how all of yours has been in Gryffindor. It just so happened that most of the evil families were in Slytherin at some point, and now most of them are, but that doesn't mean that all Slytherins are evil, does it?"

Ron seemed genuinely stumped by this, before responding carefully.

"I suppose not  _all_  Slytherins are evil, but you said yourself, there are loads of dark families in there, and I was just saying it would be bad for  _me_ especially, because the Slytherins would hate me for being a blood-traitor, and everyone else would hate me because they think I'm going dark. Either way, it's not for me." He crossed his arms, seemingly very proud to reasoned out his view of the world. Harry couldn't help but be slightly impressed himself. There was nothing more certain than an 11 year-old.

With that, Hermione seemed to remember why she was there.

"So you haven't seen a toad?"

"No, sorry, but we'll keep an eye out." Harry smiled at her, finally achieving a small smile back from her, before she turned around and left.

The rest of the journey went peacefully, as they changed into their robes and the sky darkened. Harry also pulled out a hat, hoping to cover his hair and some of his scar. It was a dark red beanie-like hat, the type that doesn't stretch; it was slightly too big for him, and it smelled like old people, but years of wearing donated clothes had taught him not to be picky, he just wished he had thought of buying a new one with all the money his parents left him.

The train finally came to a halt, and they exited, leaving their possessions behind, heeding the yelled instructions from outside. When they stepped onto the platform, Harry saw the tallest man he had ever seen. He was at least 7-foot, and had long, curly, dark hair, his face most mostly covered in a thick, equally long beard. The man held a lantern, and was the one bellowing out instructions to the first years, who all scuttled along towards him happily.

"That's Hagrid." Ron informed him, also staring at the man. "He's the Hogwarts groundskeeper."

Harry stayed towards the back to the group, not wanting to be recognised by everyone else there.

Although his hat covered the majority of his scar, the bottom of it peaked out, the small bolt reaching over his eyelid and cutting through his eyebrow being the most prominent part still visable. He looked weird, no one else wearing a hat, and certainly not this beanie-like hat, making him look very muggle. Fortunately, no one really noticed except for Hagrid, who only gave him a passing glance.

"Firs' years this way!" He yelled once more, walking off, all the students following after him like lost ducklings. They walked for a few minutes, before reaching a lake with several boats.

"Four to a boat!" Hagrid yelled again, the children all scrambling to get into groups, Harry finally being placed in a boat with two other boys and Ron. They all began to sail across the lake. As they turned a corner, the castle came into view.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. It was beautiful. It was  _home_.

He stared at it, dumbfounded, for minutes, until they came close to shore. Everyone exited the boats excitedly and began the trek towards the castle, Harry still at the back with Ron.

After being guided through the castle by Hagrid, they reached the entrance hall, and were met by a very stern looking woman in emerald green robes. Her dark gray hair was pulled into a tight bun, and she bore a distinct resemblance to Mrs. Barnas, the woman that brought new children to the orphanage. After looking at all of them, she began to speak.

"My name is Professor McGonagall. The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up, and remove any hats," She looked at Harry's hat pointedly "while you are waiting." She glanced at several students, before turning and leaving through the the huge doors. After she left, chatter broke out among the students as they all smartened themselves up.

Harry wiped the soot away from Ron's cheeks, before looking himself over, and, only when McGonagall returned did he remove his hat, stuffing it in his huge robe pocket. After glancing at them, she motioned for them to follow her, which they did.

Harry stared in wonder at the great hall, watching the candles floating in the air, silently wondering how they dealt with dripping wax, before turning his attention to the ceiling, and almost gasping. The night sky loomed over him, the stars shining down through the darkness. Finally Harry reached the back of the grouped first years, all bunched up at the front of the hall.

He looked over the other kids, seeing a stool, on which was an old-looking hat, slumped over.

" _The sorting hat…"_ Tom reminded him. Yes, he knew that thank you very much.

McGonagall stood next to the stool, holding a scroll, and after a moment, she read from it.

"Abbot Hannah." A small, slightly chubby girl walked nervously to the hat. Her fringe hanging dangerously close to her eyes as she sat down, and the hat was lowered to her head, falling down to her nose, covering her eyes.

After a few seconds, a mouth appeared in the hat's folds, and it yelled out.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" McGonagall lifted the hat, and the now labeled girl skipped happily towards the cheering, clapping table. The sorting continued in alphabetical order until reaching "Granger, Hermione." Who took rather a long time, almost a minute in real time, before deciding finally on "GRYFFINDOR!". Conversely, the hat bearly touched the head of "Malfoy, Draco." Before screeching "SLYTHERIN!".

Finally it reached him.

"Potter, Harry." The hall was full of whispers, as Harry emerged from the crowd of first years, and he could feel every eye on him. Even the teachers watched with baited breaths and he ascended the steps, and as he sat down, the hall went silent, and the hat was placed on him, wrapping him in darkness.

"Potter eh? Oh wow, this is certainly interesting…" Harry heard a voice around him, as he violently twitched, visable to the great hall, unhappy at the intrusion of yet another voice in his head.

"This is a brilliant mind, Mr Potter, truly, a thirst for knowledge, power, loyalty. And so brave, you really could fit in anywhere you choose, but there is only one place tha-" The voice stopped.

"Oh. Oh my goodness. This isn't… That shouldn't be!" The hat sounded  _horrified_  as it spoke, Harry felt flashes of memories being rifled through, and a burst of violent green light being replayed over, and over again. He felt the hat shudder on his head, unbeknownst to him, eliciting several whispers.

"You're not alone in here." It whispered now, completely horror-struck. "I can't- It's-" It sounded as though it was struggling, and he could feel the hat violently twisted and shaking on his head, whispers emanating from the hall breaching the all-encompassing darkness of the hat.

The hat, still jerking, whispered again, "Mr Potter, I- Good luck." Before it bellowed out the word.

"SLYTHERIN!" The moment it spoke, the hat was violently ripped from Harry's head, as it went limp in McGonagall's hand, she stared at it, and then again at him, eyes wide. Was that fear? Turning around, he saw the rest of the hall was in a similar state of shock and fear. Harry, for all intents and purposes, looked like a nervous 11 year-old boy, as he should, no one should suspect him of anything, and yet, everything was silent.

After a few moments of crushing stares and silence, the table on the far end of the hall began to clap, slowly and unsure, before Malfoy turned to the other members, clapping victoriously, and the rest of the table finally joined in.

Harry walked over to the table, sitting next to Malfoy, who moved up to make space for him. After a few moments of silence once the house stopped cheering, McGonagall seemed to recover, calling out the next name. The rest of the sorting was uneventful, Ron being sorted, as he expected, into Gryffindor, along with a miserable looking boy clutching a toad that was revealed to be Neville Longbottom. Harry could see a chocolate frog sticking out his robe pocket.

Meanwhile, Harry was interrogating Tom about what had happened with the hat.

" _It tried to remove me Harry… It tried to hurt me… I fought back…I'm sorry, I didn't…expect that to…happen…"_  Harry got the feeling that Tom was hiding something from him, but quickly shook the feeling off immediately; Tom had never hidden anything from him before in his entire life.

"Will the hat tell Dumbledore?" Harry asked, thinking the question to Tom quite worriedly.

" _No… the hat is charmed… to secrecy… otherwise the hat would be a very… dangerous weapon…"_  Tom assured Harry, sounding as though he was panting, as much as a disembodied voice can.

Harry calmed slightly. This could have been very bad, he could have been exposed, his plans ruined, but he was lucky. The hat was charmed to not tell anyone about the incident that had just occurred. Tom was still with him. People already seemed to be moving past the slightly weird sorting, and Harry was in Slytherin. He should really count this as a win.

As the sorting ceremony ended, an old man stood, his long white beard falling past his elbows, and the hall was silenced. This was him, Dumbledore. This was the man Harry hated with a passion, the man he would undoubtedly someday kill.

He began to speak.

"I would like to first welcome first years, to this school…" Harry tuned him out, only vaguely listening as he imagined the ways he could kill this man. He rambled on about the forest and the third-floor corridor. Wait? What? A 'painful and most horrible death?' That was certainly interesting. He would store that information away. The man finally started to wrap up his speech, finishing by saying some random words, to several confused faces.

"Has the codger lost his mind?" A scrawny-looking boy, Theodore Knott, to his left asked. This was met with some snickers by the older years sitting near them, as everyone started piling their plates with the freshly materialized food in front of them.

Harry ate a small amount compared to everyone around him, not used to eating so much food. He made himself acquainted with the faces of his peers, who all not-so-subtly stole glances at him throughout the whole meal. Suddenly, Malfoy seemed to realise he hadn't sucked up to Harry in almost twenty minutes.

"Harry, I didn't see you on the train, I thought you were going to join us?" Malfoy politely asked Harry, oozing passive-aggression.

"I was sitting with some other friends." Harry bit his carrot. Let Malfoy realise there was competition, and his friendship was not a sure thing. It took all but a few seconds for Malfoy to catch up and make a another, more useful, move.

"Well, allow me to introduce you to some acquaintances of mine; This is Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Theodore Knott," each child was pointed to in turn, as they nodded at Harry in greeting. "and this is Crabbe," Malfoy pointed to the gargoyle-like boy beside him, "And Goyle." The ogre-like boy in front of him gave a little wave.

After it appeared that Malfoy was finished introducing his closest friends, Pansy cut in; " And this is Milicent, Daphne, and Tracy" She pointed to three more girls, who were each glaring at Malfoy.

"Harry Potter." Harry nodded to the circle, before continuing to eat noncommittally. This was apparently not received very well, as Pansy immediately took advantage of her seat next to Harry by asking him the questions that clearly burned on everyone's minds.

"So, what happened with the hat?" A bad attempt at subtlety that the snake-adoring house would surely nurture. Harry acted totally unphased.

"What do you mean?" He asked, not looking up.

"You took so long!" Theodore exclaimed, sounding rather exasperated. "Well over a minute!"

"That isn't too long, Granger took nearly a minute."

"Yeah, but the hat was acting so weird, like it was screaming." Milicent butted in. Harry put down his cutlery, having finished eating, and looked up, staring her dead in the eyes.

"I have no idea." Harry smiled, with the air of someone who was making a terrible threat. Everyone turned back to their food, Milicent staring at her plate for the rest of dinner. No one bothered him with any more questions throughout the evening.

As bedtime was announced, the prefects began to herd the first years along the corridors, pointing out particular classrooms and areas along the way. They finally reached a large circular door, decorated with a large metal snake.

The prefect turned to the first years and informed them that the current password was "Serpentine" and that the password would change every fortnight.

The moment Harry stepped foot into the Slytherin common room, he felt comfortable. It felt right. As though he had been there for all his life already. The dim green-tinted light illuminated marble walls and flooring. The centre showed several uncomfortable looking sofas and coffee tables, and there were several bookshelves lining the opposite wall.

To both the left and the right of the entrance door, in the corners of the room, there were two circular raised areas. These areas sported a pale green carpet, and several more, slightly more comfortable-looking sofas and armchairs, and the whole wall section lined with many more books.

While the first years admired room, Harry noticed a tall, shadowy figure lurking behind one of the many marble pillars. He was dressed in all black robes, and had long, dark, greasy hair. After a moment, the man noticed Harry was looking at him, and began walking out of the shadows towards the group of children. For a second, Harry's immediate instincts kicked in, and he prepared to shoot the man down, hand at the ready, before Tom practically screeched at him.

" _He is a teacher! Do not reveal yourself!"_

Harry quickly lowered his hand, hopefully before the man noticed, and stood to attention. After a moment, the other children turned to see the man as well, with much less trepidation than Harry had shown. Clearly some of the others had seen this man before. Of course! He must have been at dinner, Harry cursed himself for not paying attention.

Finally, the man spoke, looking over them with black eyes over a long, hooked nose.

"I am Professor Snape. I teach Potions class, and I am your head of house. This means that if you have any issues, you will take them up with me. I will not tolerate nonsense in this house, and any troublemakers will be greatly punished." He stopped, looking at Harry again, before continuing to speak in the same slow, deliberate tone.

"If you experience any personal disagreements with other members of this house, I expect you to solve them, if you experience any problems with schoolwork, I expect you to get help from the older years. There will be no fighting with members of other houses, and I do not care 'who started it' because all students will be punished. Rise above it, you are part of a noble house, act like it."

"The dorms are down those stairs, boys to the left, girls to the right. Password changes are posted on the announcement board a day before the change, so there is no excuse to forget it. My office is beside the potions classroom, just two corridors away. If there is an issue that requires adult intervention that is where you will find me." With this, he turned to leave, robes billowing after him, rather like a giant bat.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, the group dispersed, chattering among each other as they filed down their separate staircases.

Entering the first years boys' dorm room, Harry realised with dread that he would have to share a room. Not just with one other boy, or even two, but all five. Harry's possessions stood by the door along with, presumably, the other boys' things. Thinking quickly, Harry grabbed his case and strode toward the furthermost bed, tucked into one corner, nearest the bathroom. He pulled out Hedwig's cage from his case, placing it on the windowsill. The window gave a rather lovely view of below the lake, much like an aquarium. After only a second more, Harry pulled out Zaccai.

" _Master! It has been long! Fresh, but cold."_ Harry silently charmed the floor around his bed to be warm with the flick of his wrist, placing Zaccai on the grey carpet. The sound of an inhale alerted Harry to the fact that the other boys were watching him.

"This is Zaccai. He's perfectly safe." Harry started unpacking his things.

"The letter said…" Blaise started, but Harry was getting rather tired now, and he just wanted to go to bed.

"The letter said that students may bring owls, cats, or toads, and did not anywhere say that one cannot bring a snake." After a second, this logic seemed to click with the others, who were obviously torn between being impressed and being angry that they hadn't thought of it first.

Harry went into the bathroom to change, as he still liked his privacy, Tthank you very much'. It was actually a rather good set-up, four showers, four toilet stalls, and a row of three sinks totally assured Harry that sharing a room with five other people would not ruin his personal hygiene.

Padding out again, he was too tired to deal with the glances from the others, and clambered into bed, pulling the silk blankets up, and, with another wrist flick, closing the curtains.

Thanks to the curtains of course, Harry did not see the terrified looks of the occupants of the room, who all shared glances with each other.

Because just like that, with the flick of a wrist, Harry had established something very important.

 

Once again; Power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait, i had exams and i thought i'd focus on them, but i should be updating everything more regularly now.


End file.
